


And we shall burn

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements, fairytale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 08:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7795147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kingdom used to be a land of light and radiance. But the coming of the Shadow changed all that. </p>
<p>The people say that it is the doing of an evil spirit lurking in the woods. </p>
<p>Now if only this spirit could be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And we shall burn

Once upon a time there lived a prince in a kingdom of darkness.

The kingdom had not always been dark. It had used to be beautiful and golden, famous for the way the sun shone down upon fields of green and oceans of the most brilliant blue, and for the way that laughter rested light on the people's lips. But it had fallen upon dark times, and now shadow rested over fields that were no longer green and he sea pounded at the grey shore with angry black waves. The prince, however, was as beautiful as the kingdom had once been, with golden hair and eyes the colour of the sky.

The shadow had started slowly, washing over the fringes of the kingdom cautiously and stealing the light and the laughter from the forests and meadows. It spread quickly, like a dark, inky plague, leaving behind only a grey wasteland and people with shadowy eyes and sadness in their touch.

The people said it was an evil spirit, walking through the world and leaving darkness wherever it stepped. It stole the fire from the lanterns, they said, the golden light from the fields, the very light in a person's eyes, and even the sun itself. For a while, others scoffed, calling these stories fairy-tales, but as the darkness spread, their laughter grew silent, and grief crept into their homes.

For a long time, the royal palace stood safe and proud, it's glow drawing folk like moths to a flame. But finally, even it fell, and the darkness was complete. Only the prince remained unharmed, though for what reason none could say.

The prince was in grief over his kingdom, and he spent his days wandering the grey lands and sitting by his mother's bedside, for she too was falling victim to the shadow, the light fading from her eyes until they were flat and grey like pebbles. It was then that he finally approached his father.

"I shall seek the spirit." He announced, "I shall bring back the light to my kingdom."

The king protested, but the queen simply stared, unable to speak, and the sight strengthened the prince's resolve, and the king's protests were futile. He bowed to his parents, ordered for his horse to be brought to him and rode from the castle in a cloud of dust. He rode for days and nights, unable to tell the difference in a world of black and grey. He rested when he needed to and ate when he could, riding ever further from the palace until he came to a wood so dark that it seemed like a tear in the very world itself. Without hesitation, the prince dismounted and entered the darkness. He walked through utter blackness, stumbling occasionally, until the trees slowly started to take shape around him, dim grey shapes in a world that was growing less dark by the second. Although the change was gradual, the light, when it came, blinded the prince for a long moment.

It was a droplet of pure, glowing gold hanging from the branch of a tree, and the prince, having lived so long in darkness, did not know at first what it was. When he realized, he moved closer, stepping slowly and carefully towards it. The light, he noticed as he came closer, was captured, resting in a small glass orb. He reached out cautiously, fingers brushing against the warm surface. The light moved towards his hand as he touched the glass, pushing against the barrier like a trapped animal.

The prince was still staring at the golden light when a voice pulled him from his reverie.

"Who are you?" The voice was harsh and clear. "What are you doing here?"

The prince turned. A tall man had appeared between the trees, though the prince doubted that man was the right term. The... being was tall and slender, and for a moment, the prince wondered if he could even see it. It was shrouded in darkness more complete than the prince had ever seen, a shifting cloud of inky blackness. Yet when he focused he could make out features, long dark hair, gleaming eyes like darkly burning coals, a cloak made out of night itself.

The prince drew himself up to his full height, though even then his head was at the height of the spirit's broad shoulders.

"I the prince of the kingdom beyond these woods," the prince declared, "A kingdom that you have destroyed and plunged into shadow." The prince was not sure how he knew that this being was who he was looking for, but somehow there was no doubt about it. "I have come to reclaim what belongs to my people."

For a long while, the spirit simply stared impassively. "Come with me, "he finally said, and turned to walk away between the trees. The prince followed the spirit through the forest, treading carefully. The little globes of light that hung from the branches ever more frequently had the effect of blinding him, drawing his eyes to the golden glow and making the shadowy forest floor disappear into impenetrable darkness. The spirit did not seem to have any difficulties navigating the treacherous forest floor with its twisted roots. The prince watched the spirits progress, the silvery shadows rippling about his feet, and wondered if he was walking, or floating, or maybe neither.

The prince reached up once again to cup a light filled globe in his hand, the light flickering and brightening gladly.

"What are they?" he asked, hushed, knowing the answer. By now they were everywhere, shimmering in the branches like endless chains of fallen stars, glittering and glowing and reflecting off the black leaves of the trees.

The spirit shifted, dissolving and reforming. "The lights I stole, from your kingdom and from others. The light of the fields, the light of children's laughter..." the spirit turned slightly towards the tree at his back, shining with dozens of pinpricks of light. It looked as though the night sky had sought refuge among the twisted branches. With the golden light reflecting off his angular features, the spirit looked quite beautiful. "The light of the sun itself," it whispered, reaching out a hand towards the brightest of the glass orbs, but pulling back at the last moment. He turned towards the prince with a level gaze. "You would ask me to return them, would you not?"

The prince nodded wordlessly, certain that the spirit could see the gesture despite the darkness.

"My kingdom has fallen. My people are mourning, though they no longer know why. Laughter has fled from the streets. The darkness is everywhere, with nothing to keep it at bay. Children are dying. Crops are failing. People are hungry and people are grieving."

The spirit strode towards the trunk of the huge tree before them, climbing upwards to a podium of gnarled roots. "All that is of no concern to me." He said. "I care not for your children. I do not miss their laughter." Hunger passed across his angular face. "I need your light. I need your sun and your laughter, more so, I think, than do you. And so, I take..." The spirit's features twisted in sorrow, and he reached out a slender hand towards the nearest orb. The light flickered as the spirit reached for it, growing dim and pale, fleeing his shadowy grasp. When grey shadow fingers cupped the glass, the light had dimmed to a mere glimmer of grey and icy blue, cold as the spirit's eyes. The prince watched as the spirit sighed deeply and pulled back, the dull light flickering back to life as if with relief.

"I take," the spirit said mournfully, "but it is never enough."

"Then why can you not give them back?" The prince tried again. The spirit looked at him with black, fathomless eyes as wise and restless as the universe. He reached out as if inviting the prince to dance, as if stretching out to touch. The prince felt an icy shudder run through him, as of an icy hand reaching straight for his heart. There was a tug, a pull, a strain, the cold grip on his insides coiling tighter, and suddenly the prince's knees buckled, his body sagging forward as a gleaming, flickering light escaped, drawn towards the spirit's outstretched hand. The prince straightened up, breathing heavily. He felt hurt and empty, like there were pieces of him missing. His breath went cold in his lungs. He looked up and realized, shock flooding him with a cold tingle, that his world had gone dark. The lights in the trees had faded to grey, the small circles illuminated by them falling back into shadow. Only the light the spirit cradled in his hands, the prince's own light, remained, bright and shining in a world of dusk. The spirit seemed strangely thoughtful, looking at the light in his hands with a frown. The prince wanted to step forward, but found suddenly that he couldn't. The spirit looked up, the yellowish light casting sharp shadows across his face.

"You are very beautiful." The spirit said thoughtfully, stepping down from the raised podium to peer at the prince. "And you have light within you like I have never seen before." He reached out a hand to gently touch the prince's cheek. The spirit's hands were surprisingly warm, the prince realized, and from this close, the spirit also seemed surprisingly young, younger than the prince himself.

Suddenly turning, the spirit returned to his podium, watching the prince out of cool eyes. "I have a compromise." He decided. "You stay. With every day that you do, you shall choose one sphere, one light, that you may set free and that shall return. You may leave whenever you want, but in that case, the lights shall be mine, though I shall not reconquer what you have freed."

The prince watched the truthfulness on the spirit's face, the flickering lights in the trees. He thought back to his kingdom, to his mother's laughter, the way it had died on her lips, and his choice was made.

"Very well." He said. The spirit smiled, and it was a kind smile, one that let his dark eyes flicker to gold for a brief moment.

"It has been a long time since I have had company." He said as he released the yellow light in his hands. The prince shuddered as warmth flooded him and pressed a hand to his chest, where the glowing light had settled. His ribs looked frail against the bright orange glow, but then the warmth spread and the light faded, leaving the prince with a tingling in his limbs and sparks of light that raced quickly through his fingers before going out.

The colour returned to the world, and the prince let out a breath, feeling like he had awakened from a bad dream. The spirit reached out a hand and the prince reluctantly took it. There was something not quite real about it, something that was shifting and pushing, something that reminded the prince that this being was not fully human.

The spirit led him closer to the tree, until they were standing beneath the hundreds of tiny lights glittering amidst the boughs. He turned to the prince with a smile. "Choose one." He said, and his voice held a new softness. The prince looked up, feeling laughter bubbling in his chest at the sight above him. It was utterly beautiful, and for a moment, he had the selfish thought of keeping them all to himself, so only he could enjoy this beauty. But he raised an arm and pointed to an orb swinging far up in the tree.

The spirit reached out a hand and the orb floated down gently. With a smile, the spirit took the prince's hands and guided them to let the floating orb settle into them. The prince smiled down at the golden light in his hands. It was warm, and felt like a live thing eagerly pushing against his hands.

The spirit motioned, and the glass barrier fell, trickling between the prince's fingers to the dark ground below. Together, the spirit's hands cupping the prince's, they reached up, sending the glowing light off into the sky. It flew up quickly like a bird escaping from a trap, out of view almost instantly. The prince watched with a small smile, thinking of the people out there in his kingdom, how this one small light returning would give them cause for hope and for happiness.

The prince looked up into the black night sky, and gasped, reaching for the spirit's arm and pointing up towards the single star breaking through the utter darkness. "It..." The prince was speechless, beaming up at the spirit, who looked down, as surprised by the prince's happiness as he was by the grip on his arm. A small smile graced the spirit's features.

"It's beautiful." The prince said softly, turning towards the spirit. "Isn't it."

The spirit considered. It had never known beauty, not before this prince stumbled into his lair. His kind did not appreciate beauty. But something that made his prince so happy... "Yes." The spirit smiled, suddenly feeling very young and very small. "I suppose it is."

*

The prince stayed. He stayed until he lost count of the days, lost count of the weeks and months, and the only indication of how long he had spent in the forest was the slowly growing galaxy in the sky and the slowly growing affection between him and the strange being he was staying with.

He had soon stopped seeing his companion as an evil spirit, or indeed anything supernatural. He had, after all, never met someone who seemed more human. It didn't take long for the prince to find out how young the other was, and how alone.

And as the prince looked up at the last glittering light hanging in the tree above them, he realized that after today, his friend would be alone again.

He turned to the other, who was sitting on a branch high above, watching the sunset through the now green leaves of the forest. It was a strange sight indeed. The sky was slowly darkening, taking on a velvet blue colour, while the clouds were splashed with grey light. The stars were slowly appearing, an armada of tiny, barely-there pinpricks. The world was full of light again, except for the sun, still a grey shadow against the blue sky. The prince had never seen anything more surreal.

When the sun vanished beneath the horizon, the world slowly falling into sleep, the spirit sighed, stood and floated gently down to stand beside the prince. With a quick gesture, the last orb, the light of the sun itself floated down to them, a flickering, angry orange flame like trapped wildfire.

"I am a man of my word." The spirit passed the light to the prince. The glass was hot, almost burning his palms, unlike the gentle warmth of the others. The prince looked down at the bright light until his vision blurred and bright flecks of colour danced before his eyes.

"You will leave by daybreak, will you not?" The prince could hear how hard the other was trying to sound indifferent.

"Yes." He couldn't leave his kingdom behind forever. "I will."

There was a small, pained smile on the spirit's face when he removed the glass and they sent up the light together. It curled and roared tremendously, violently, shooting up into the dark sky like fireworks. For a moment, it hovered, before there was a sudden, enormous roar as of an animal finally freed from its trappings and ready to take revenge. There was a brilliant flash, and the light spread out like ink in water, making its way between the shining stars, forming a beautiful net over the sky and letting the entire world shine out bright as day before it sunk into the night sky, leaving behind only flashing after-images and stars that burned like watchfires in the darkness.

The two of them stared up into the night sky in silence for what felt like hours. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, their hands brushing, and when the spirit reached out and grasped the prince's hands and their fingers entwined, it felt like breathing, like something so natural it was a second instinct to them. And when they leaned in and their lips met, the prince's fingers sliding along the spirit's jaw, they both wondered how they could have possibly avoided it all this long. It seemed so inevitable, now.

"Come with me." The prince asked when they broke apart, one hand resting on the small of the other's back, the other against his jaw. "Come with me to my kingdom."

The spirit turned away. "I cannot. I have done your people too much harm."

The prince knew he was right. No matter how kind of heart the spirit was, he would never be accepted, not by the king, nor the queen, nor the people. But the prince could be selfish if he wanted to, and so he took the spirit's hands and he shook his head no. "You will be forgiven." He promised. "You will be forgiven, by them as you were forgiven by me, and none of it will matter anymore."

The spirit looked up at him with eyes of starlight. "You forgive me?"

"I forgave you long ago."

And so they walked away together, between the trees, underneath the starlit sky, and towards the kingdom that should be theirs.

*

The news of the prince's arrival spread through the village like wildfire, and even before he and the spirit had crossed its borders, they were met by people running towards them, children laughing and shouting.

"The bringer of the stars!" They shouted," the bringer of the stars has returned!"

The prince could not stop smiling. He felt like everything was coming back together, like everything that he had once had was coming back to him. The fields were green again, the trees awash with brilliant autumn colours, the sky the crisp blue of silken robes. The sun shone down upon children, children laughing and children running, and the prince's heart was filled with warm joy as he took the spirit's hand in his.

The villagers stopped. They stopped as if they had only now noticed the dark presence next to their prince, and they grabbed their children by their shoulders and their aprons, pulled them back, dragged them out of harms way.

"The spirit!" A woman cried out shrilly. "It is the evil spirit! He has stolen our prince from us!"

"No!" The prince quickly stepped forward, fear in his eyes. "No, he does not mean you any harm."

"Well, he should have thought of that earlier!" The prince could not make out the speaker, but the other villagers nodded in agreement.

"Let us pass." The prince said slowly. "We mean no harm. I have forgiven this... spirit. And I ask of you to do the same."

"If you are on his side now," a hefty woman stepped to the front of the crowd. Her jaw was set. Her eyes were cold. "Then you are as unwelcome here as he is."

The other villagers shouted their agreement, the children sensing the unrest and hurrying back to the village while the adults tightened their grips on sticks, ladles, axes and whatever other tools they had at hand.

The prince stepped back, suddenly afraid. It was a feeling he had not felt for a long time. Behind him, the spirit dissolved and reformed, seeming anxious. "I..." the prince took another step back. "Please, for the love of your king..."

"Leave!" Came that shrill voice again, and other villagers picked up the cry.

"You are no prince of ours!"

"Leave this place!"

Behind him, the spirit grabbed his arm. The grip was tight, but it was no more than the ghost of a grip, and the prince shook himself free easily, the spirit's hand dissolving in a cloud of dark smoke and reforming again. "This is my kingdom." The prince said quietly, through clenched teeth, so that only the spirit could hear him. The other shook his head. "Not anymore." He said, resigned.

The prince turned to him. "Please, it won't be like this. This is just one village. We can get to the palace. We can stay there."

The spirit shook his head. "This is every village. Every town. The palace. These people... you think your parents will react differently?"

The prince's eyes swam with tears and the spirit pulled him into his embrace. "I shall leave. Go to your people."

The crowd quieted as they watched the spirit turn, watched the prince hold on tight to his cloak of midnight, watched the prince's despair, his lips forming a silent "no". But the cloak dissipated to dark smoke, and the spirit walked away. The prince stood silently, watching.

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a man raise his arm. The world suddenly moved in slow motion, the prince's blood suddenly running cold. He did not hear himself shout, but he felt the sound in his throat, felt the rough scrape and the raw fear. He launched himself into motion almost violently, fear thudding in his heart and in his steps, fear that he would not be fast enough to stop the knife that the man had released from his hand, fear that he would not be enough.

The spirit heard the shout, and it sounded raw enough, desperate enough, to shatter the world into small pieces. He turned, turned just in time to see a flash of blond hair and red robes, a flash of metal as a knife cut through the air with a whistle, and suddenly there was a grunt, a scream, and the prince fell to the dusty ground limply.

The spirit shouted as he fell to his knees, shadows roiling around him, coils of distraught black and flashes of angry white. The crowd moved forward, shock on every face, guilt etched deep into their movements. The spirit looked up, his eyes flashing white and black and every single colour of a thunderstorm. "Stay _away!"_   He screamed, sending a flash of razor sharp shadow-blades flying towards the villagers. There was a collective gasp of shock, and most took one last look at the couple and ran. A few stayed.

The spirit began sobbing as he turned the prince over, cradled him in his lap, ran his fingers through his golden hair. He hadn't cried in a long time. The tears burned in his eyes, sobs wracking his body. He was not used to this fragility. Not used to feeling like his ribcage might break and his lungs might collapse, and like all his love and all his heart might break him apart, shatter him right back into pieces after he had just put himself back together.

He cried as the sun moved above him, purposefully, cried until colours spilled like blood across the sky, red and orange and a fierce yellow. The spirit had never really seen the beauty in sunsets. He thought they looked like rage and pain and freezing cold anger.

When he finally looked up from his grief, there was only a single woman of the village left, staring at him with something akin to recognition, akin to sympathy. "Fools." The spirit said as he lifted the prince in his arms, cradled the body close to his chest. "Fools." He said as he turned around to leave. "Ignorant fools."

*

For three days and three nights, he tried to rescue his prince.

He crouched over him in the dark forest, muttering and chanting and pulling all the light from the world around him, pushing it into the prince's chest, watching it spark and glimmer and fade again, the body growing cold.

He pulled the light from the forest around him, and then he closed in on the prince's kingdom, stealing all the light that he had stolen once before, in a desperate attempt to bring his prince back.

He pulled the light from the fields, from the hearths, from the turquoise ocean. He took it all and he gave it to his prince, watched it glow against his ribs and vanish again.

It was his only hope, he knew. And after all, it had worked once, when he himself had become this... thing. Why should it not work again.

He took and he took, not caring from whom he was stealing, not caring about anything but the body resting on the black forest floor, and he took more and more until the prince's kingdom was once again a grey wasteland.

The spirit considering taking the light from the people's eyes, the laughter from their lips. Maybe that would be enough. But no- the prince had loved these people, no matter how rotten they were, how false their intentions and cowardly their hearts. He could not hurt the people his prince loved. As long as they still had light within themselves, they could run, they could flee, seek a better place and a better life and leave behind the wasteland that he was creating, this wasteland of shadows and death, with fear lurking everywhere and pain that was far too close to the surface.

And so he took the light from the forests, the light of the clouds and the shining of the lanterns, but it was not enough.

It was on the third day that he first considered giving up. But what did he have left without his prince? Not his lights. Not his life before all this had happened. It was impossible, after all these years, to return to his old lonesome ways.

He considered taking the light from the skies and from the stars, but he couldn't. His prince had always loved the night sky, loved the stars brushed across the sky in fragile galaxies.

"The moon had a light once too, you know." The spirit had said once. The prince had looked over. "What happened?"

The spirit's hand rose to his chest, where deep inside of him, and only for him to feel, silvery light pulsed. "I took it."

No, the night sky was not an answer. His prince loved the sky too much for him to sacrifice it.

When the sun rose, the spirit realized his solution. He liked the idea. It was fitting, that his love should have the light of the sun, just as he himself had been saved by that of the moon.

And so he took a deep breath, and he channelled all his might and all his hope and all his grief, and he pulled the light of the sun itself out of the sky.

It burned and roared in his hands, fighting to escape his grip, but he was stronger in his desperation, and he pushed it down, watched it burn furiously against the prince's ribcage, watched it lick in flames at the prince's heart, and for a moment, the spirit wondered if the fire would be too much.

But even as he watched, the light spread, sparking and leaping through the prince's veins, along his limbs, spreading with a ferocity that the spirit had never seen before, until the prince was cloaked in coiling, shifting gold and shimmering white, the sickly paleness of his skin shimmering with pure light and his hair radiant as the sun itself.

With a small gasp, he opened his eyes, eyes that were made of raging, burning fire just as the other's were made of starlight.

"You returned to me." The moon whispered, eyes shining silver with tears. The sun reached up to brush them away and gazed at the other with a smile. The moon searched for a familiar spark in those fiery eyes and found glimmering blue at the very heart of the flames, blue that was warm and kind and full of love.

"You brought me back," the sun replied, and reached out a hand to touch. Disbelief swam in his eyes. "You brought me back." He repeated.

*

They told of a spirit that lived in the woods, dark and cold, one that had taken all their light from them, the light of their fields and their oceans and their sun. They told of how he ruled across his empire of silver and of shadows. And they told of another spirit, at his side, who ruled over a golden empire of flame.

They spoke of the sun,  and of the moon, and of their love, and of their shared life beneath the black leaves of the forest lit by hundreds and thousands of golden flames. They spoke, and others listened, and the legend lived on, whispered to children who did not even remember that the moon had once held a light that lined the night with silver, and that the sun had once held a flame the like of which would never be seen again.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: [thegoddessidunn](http://thegoddessidunn.tumblr.com/)


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